The Reframing
Charles settled onto the sofa, turning his attention to Lauren. He began to “reframe” Mabel’s time there.
“I hope she hasn’t burdened you with her… stories,” he said, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “Confused memories, tall tales about family estates? She tends to misunderstand things when she’s tired. It’s part of the decline.”
As Lauren recounted Mabel’s talk of her brother’s fortune, Charles nodded with a sad, indulgent smile. “Ah, the ‘Arthur’ fantasies. My father died penniless, but in her mind, she’s a queen in a counting house. It’s heart-breaking, really.”
He was smooth—too smooth. Every detail Lauren provided, he twisted into a symptom of madness. He was painting a portrait of Mabel as a fragile, delusional child who needed his iron hand to survive.
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